We know the story. She turns back to find her trail devoured by birds. The years; the

Shooting pleasures Ok’d by My being seen For Or as

Discomfort marks the boundary. One early symptom was the boundary… The invention of hunger. I could use energy. To serve.

It’s as if we’ve just been turned… in order to learn that the beetle we’ve caught and are now devouring is our elder brother

A career in vestige management. A dream job back—engineering shifts in salience. I’m so far

You’re it. It is (you are) an error with an arsenal of disguises,

If sadness is akin to patience, we’re back! Pattern recognition was our first response

You may “have” sex— but those round sink—holes beneath the off—ramps, scabbed with whatever

So these are the hills of home. H… nearly subliminal. To see them is… double, hear bad puns delivered wi… An untoward familiarity. Rising from my sleep, the road is…

The doll told me to exist. It said, “Hypnotize yourself.” It said time would be transfixed.

What if I were turned on by seemi… or “extrapolate?” What if I maneuvered conversation… words? Perhaps the excitement would come…

Sad, fat boy in pirate hat. Long, old, dented, copper—colored Ford. How many traits must a thing have

The jacaranda, for instance, is be… but not serious. That much I can guess. And that the view